


Little Sister

by totallynotfanfiction



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Roxy's a sweetie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallynotfanfiction/pseuds/totallynotfanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roxy's a dear.<br/>She's his little sister and he's her older brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Sister

Roxy is a dear. God he loves her, her gentleness and her sensitivity to everyone, always so selfless and does her best to create the ideal situation—the bad guy is captured, everyone is okay, and she comes back alive. She does her best, and always gets close. But while he loves her as a reliable Kingsman agent that knows when to be kind and when to be ruthless, he also loves her for selfish reasons, what she does for him and how amazing she is. And he knows it's selfish, relying on her so much, but he can't help it because when she's his Roxy, not the new Lancelot that always sort of feels wrong when he calls her by her code name, she is as far from Lancelot as she can get. She never wears her bespoke suit. Her glasses are in her bag or at her flat. Her nails are painted and she wears just enough makeup to highlight her eyes. Her hair is either down or tied up loosely. She's nothing like the serious Lancelot that could kill with a knife hidden in her tube of lipstick. No, his Roxy is this gentle soul who wears jeans and sweaters when they're out, who smiles so kindly at him and never fails to be polite, always looking out for him and never failing to talk with him or call him up at least once a day.

She cares for him, and Percival can't help but take her care with open arms.

Because Arthur had been so insensitive. Percival understands that replacing James' spot in Kingsman was important considering there were only so many field agents, but he wasn't even cold. James had been dead for less that twenty-four hours, and Percival had wanted nothing to do with Arthur for days because the man had a way of dismissing things. 'Oh, yes, Percival, sorry about your husband. We'll give you his ring when we can, but don't forget to choose a candidate for his position!' Merlin and Harry were much better company that day. Harry brought him a few painkillers for his pounding headache and Merlin took him off the assignment roster for two weeks. Both of them stopped by every other day to check up on him, stay over for a bit to have a bite with him and talk. Roxy had even stopped by during his two weeks off, and he decided that she would be his candidate. She had met James before, excelled in everything she did, was a pretty decent fighter for someone who sparred against a trained Kingsman. She was more than happy to accept.

He had met Roxy when they were young. His family was close with hers, and he met her when she was just an infant; he was about ten then. Even at that age, he knew well that her parents weren't the best—acted like college students who went out to parties all the time and came back at ridiculous hours of the morning, hammered and slurring their words as they conversed with the nanny and stumbled into the nursery. They weren't abusive or anything. They just forgot that they even had a child sometimes. That was why Percival babysat for her so much. He had to admit that her parents did pay him well, but he really did worry for her as he helped her dress and drove her to primary school on his way to the adjacent secondary school, picked her up and took her to piano lessons and karate lessons. He attended a few of her recitals and watched her receive plenty of coloured belts. She was his little sister and he was her older brother. Even when he went off to college and she didn't need someone driving her places or making her dinner, he visited her on the weekends to make sure she was doing fine; he'd treat her to a movie or something that would make her smile and call him 'Percy' as she laughed. And when he became a Kingsman, he introduced her to James. Just James, not Lancelot. She had liked James because he treated her like Percival did; he became one of her doting older brothers easily and brought her little trinkets back whenever he went on trips until she had quite the collection of little glass animals, a fine necklace that he had nicked from one of his honeypot missions—she didn't know about that for a couple years—and some small teddy bears with flags on their feet and a country embroidered on their chest.

And When Percival called her up, sobbing about James and barely coherent, she immediately called for a cab. He hadn't looked a thing like himself; he was dressed in old sweatpants that she had seen when Percival was at university, a worn button shirt that was obviously not his, his hair askew and his glasses tossed aside like yesterday's trash, and his face completely drained of colour. He hadn't looked up at her when she came in and gave a few pats to the old spaniel that had been James' curled up at his feet, hadn't watched her sit down, but instead just shattered the moment she pulled him to her, running through his hair and rubbing his shoulders. She said nothing, and he was grateful for it. She cried at the loss of her brother and cried at Percival's loss, and she pressed her lips to his temple. It was a rough night, and the two of them ended it crying themselves to sleep, Roxy pressing her face into the crook of his neck and Percival with a hand on her back, the other clutching his wedding ring.

It was a few days after that Merlin brought over James' ring and asked about his candidate. Roxy had been there in the kitchen, fixing something to eat for herself and asking Percival to at least have a little something. With Merlin there, he was forced to, and took a piece of toast. He had shaken his head as he rolled the ring in his hand, a bit too big to wear himself. It was exactly like his own. A perfect, white gold band with a perfectly square diamond cut into the centre of it, simple yet elegant as it caught the light. Roxy would end up putting it on a necklace chain for him, and he would end up wearing it tucked into his shirt every day for years after, decades.  
He asked Roxy if she would like to take James' spot as a Kingsman not long after Merlin had left, and she smiled for the first time since Percival called her up. She had listened carefully to him about what the job entailed, what risks there were and how difficult it would be, but immediately after she still smiled, kissed his forehead, and hugged him close. She had laughed when he told her that his code name was the same as his actual name, just as James had. And he had told her quite a lot, probably too much. That all those business trips that he and James took were sort of business trips if his business was breaking up mass threats and killing mob lords, that his suit and quite a number of his little items were also functioning weapons—which was the reason why he would never lend her his umbrella—and that even James' old spaniel, Brandy, was a Kingsman-trained dog even if she didn't behave like it. That last part, he realized much later when Roxy was called in to shoot her poodle, was probably cheating since she had the knowledge that all agents had gone through similar training and that Brandy was still alive and well years later.

So when she became the new Lancelot, Percival was so proud. He took her out that night and they drank to it, glad to have done so when she was sent to the edge of the atmosphere the next day. When she arrived back home safely and found Percival fine, just a little scratched up here and there, they had another drink and didn't leave Percival's flat the day after.

It's still a bit rough, though, and Roxy knows this well. On the days he doesn't even want to drag himself out of the large bed whose right side is always empty, she's only a block away and walks to his flat and gets him up, smiles at him, and presses a kiss to his temple. She waits downstairs with Brandy—the dog just adores Roxy and refuses to listen to Percival when she's around—until he comes downstairs, dressed up nicely. She always has to adjust his tie. And they split a cab to the tailor's, the whole ride being nothing but Roxy telling him that he'll be alright, that she's always there, that she's never too busy for her older brother. He appreciates it. When they get to the shop, their relationship goes quiet until they're nothing but coworkers, finding amicable silence between each other, and it starts up again the moment they step out.

Roxy's never too busy when he gets home from an assignment and he's sobbing because it was rough and he can't stop thinking of James. She's never too busy when he calls and is sniffling terribly because Brandy finally died of old age. And she's definitely never too busy when he asks if she'd like to come over and watch something on the cheerful side because the day has been absolute shit. She comes over and has a bottle of fine wine with her, setting it down in front of him before she retrieves two glasses from his cabinets. If there's one thing she learned from James, it's that the host will always be happier when brought a good bottle of alcohol, and that Percival is definitely no exception. She smiles as she uncorks it, and Percival can't help but smile back.


End file.
